Revelations
by cornwallace
Summary: The end is coming, folks. With GOD as my witness, I'll make a believer out of every single last one of you...
1. Book I

**Disclaimer: This belongs to me, and to god. So if you rip me off, you aren't just ripping me off, you are ripping god off, and that makes you a fucking scumbag!**

-

**Revelations Book I Prologue**

**Introducing The Battle Grounds for The Apocalyptic War**

**a.k.a.**

**Basic Story Setup**

-

Yay, and it were the year two thousand when the antichrist took power. There have been many speculations as to when and exactly where the antichrist would take power, but the biggest question among these people who ask those questions is... Who?

There have been many good guesses. Hitler? He was religious, yes, and he murdered a lot of people, but he was no son of Lucifer. Stalin? Not quite. Mother teresa? Maybe, but then again maybe not. You see, the antichrist was always destined for the chosen land. The battle grounds were to take place in gods purist of all countries.

The United States of America

-

**Revalations Part One.**

**A God Blessed Nation Torn To Pieces**

**-**

**  
**The world is roughly two thousand and eight years old since christ has been born, and since that is when the world started to matter, thats when we started to keep count. You see, none of the universe mattered before christ was born. It was just a bunch of retards, and giant lizards, who all god murdered by an asteroid because of their own inefficiency, but this is a lesson for another time.

Gods land, America was in a desperate situation. The dictatorship that had secretly been created in america, and cleverly disguised as democracey, was getting so god da- I mean gosh damn obvious that even some of the stupid people were starting to figure it out.

This is when all the good people evaporated... I always wondered what that would feel like...

The dictator started slaying everyone who opposed his ways. He murdered without mercey of gender, or age. He personally beat children to death him self. The antichrist was a sick person, a dictator of which the likes of you could not possibly understand.

He had America, Gods country, with its balls underneath his snake skinned boot.

-

**Revelations Part Two.**

**The Inevitable Return of The Great White Hope**

**-**

It was night time during his arrival. He arrived in what would serve as the apocalyptic battle grounds, in a city in eastern where ever. Behind a Mcdonalds, flashes of electricity sparked everywhere, scaring of some dogs and shit. An explosion and a flash of ultra light, and there his divine presence stood.

In all his glory it was Jesus H. Christ, clad in nothing! The warp from heaven to earth disintegrated his robes, but this was no matter. There was a biker bar just down the street, and he was ready to kick some ass.

He was kneeling in the large dent in the cement beneath him, created by his explosive entrance. He stood up, light emenating all around him and his divine presence. He began to walk out of the alley when he was stopped by a local law enforcement officer.

"Stop" says the local law enforcement officer."Where are you're clothes?"

Jesus stares into this mans face, and when Jesus H. Christ stares into you're face, he stares into you're soul.

"Why are you still on earth my son? Don't you recognize me as you're savior?" Jesus pleaded with this man, trying to use his force powers to get this man to find the light and the way.

"Look, all I know is that you and me are going down town. Put you're hands behind you-" the local law enforcement officer started to say, when he was cut off by Jesus.

Jesus delivered a mighty round house kick to this mans face, not only somehow decapitating this poor fucker in one blunt force blow, but he sent his soul straight to hell in one sweeping motion.

Jesus then removes the officers clothes, and puts them on. The cop was very fat, so the clothes are extremely baggy on Jesus, our Lord, and Savior. They slightly resembled blue robes.

"Well these aren't biker clothes, but it works, I suppose" Jesus says to him slf, as he slips on a pair of aviator glasses, and opens a fresh pack of cigarettes. He puts one in his mouth. He dislocates the bone in his thumb, and a flame pops out from his thumbnail. He lights the cigarette and inhales deeply.

"It's time to guide the way... and kick some ass"

-

**Revelations Part Three.**

**Jesus Administers His Justice The American Way**

**-**

It's dark in these city streets, as there are only a couple of street lights for each block. The brightest of lights, emenating from Jesus, our Lord and God. This was three blocks down from his destination, which was where he heard a womans screems coming from.

Jesus made his way, patiently to find that it was a prostitute getting beaten by her pimp. He laughed heartily and the pimp turned around, from slapping his hoe.

"Oh shit! The fuzz!"With this the man tried to run as fast as he could, to escape what he thought was just going to be an arrest, when in reality, he was trying to escape justice. With lightning fast reflexes he draws the pistol from his newly acquired police belt, and he blew the mans head off from thirty feet away.

The prostitute, crying, and bleeding, makes her way over to Jesus. Her clothes are torn, and one of her titties is hanging out. The left one. She seems overjoyed to see jesus. This joy seemed some how misplaced to Jesus, as the revelations had come, why was this woman so happy to see Jesus?

He thought to him self, maybe there is a chance for this fat, ugly whore. Maybe I can show her the light and she can make it to heaven after all.

"Lo and behold, I am the light and the way. Tell me my name, the name of you're savior, and you shall have an everlasting place in heaven." Jesus explained with a smile, his smile so bright it hurt her eyes.

"Uhhh..." She stared at him blankly for a few seconds. "Officer Smith?"

Jesus shook his head and sighed in disgust. This made him very sad, as he loved this woman with all of his heart. He put away his pistol, and removed the billy club from his belt. It was now time to finish the job that the pimp had started.


	2. Book II

**Disclaimer: God guides my fingers with his mighty strings, regurgitating forth with this utter nonse- Prophecy. Yes...**

**Brought to you by McDonalds.**

**-**

**Revelations Book Two Prologue**

**A Recap, and Some Other Useful Information. I guess...**

**a.k.a.**

**elipses... equals... dramatic... effect... Kind of... **

**a.k.a.**

**commas, make, everything, better...**

-

Last time, in the fantasmicalogical Book of Revelations (Section one, parts one through three, not to mention the prologue...) Jesus hath arrived back on the earth, in God's special patch of land. Thats right,you guessed it, The United States of America... The first thing that Jesus noticed, was that all the Wonderful Christains had dissipated from the earth, leaving him all alone with these wretched heathens...

Jesus was sad when he learned this, but then he manned up, like his daddy always told him, and then he walked it off, then beat a heathen prostitute to death with a billy club... After this he went to a bar, and hammered down a few drinks, making light conversations with the girls in the bar, but this is a matter for later... For now, concern yourself with this!

-

**Revelations Part Four**

**The Super Secret Location Of The Horrible Antichrist, Known Only By God, Jesus, Satan, the Antichrist, A Few Angels, The Heaven Stenographer, The Hell Stenographer, A Few Demons, God's Secret Boy Friend Tim, and The Henchmen Of The Antichrist...**

**a.k.a.**

**God's Infinite Love, For Every Man, Woman, And Child.**

**a.k.a.**

**God's Fantasmical Plan, Kicked Into Full Gear, Before We Even Knew It Existed!**

**a.k.a.**

**-**

Yay, and Jesus hath returned to battle that evil bastard who is... The antichrist. With the antichrist firmly nestled within the throne of the world at this point, Jesus knew it were to be a dangerous task...

The truth is nothing is dangerous for Jesus, but this almost was...

He would have to journey onward to the northwestlands, to the capitol of the world... Fife, Alabama. Yes, it were after a long, hazardous (for mere mortals of course, but not to Jesus, our lord and Savior... And God... Let us take this moment to praise him, please. Okay now close your eyes. Yes, that's right, close them. Now bow your head... Okay... Jesus thank you for this moment of breathing, praising you, and thank you God, for parenthesis, and fish, and commas, and Jesus, and rocks, and clay, and trees, and forks, and motor cars , and whiskey, and air, and dirt, and predeciding my future via this master plan that we are all supposedly subconciously playing a role in. Yes,this is true, bad things like rape and murder happen who what seem like good people, but these people are sinners in Gods eye... God planned for all of this... Anyway, I just wanted a moment of your time, you can go on reading now. Amen... Halleluja... Praise God) journey around the world that the antichrist decided to make Fife the base of operations.

Jesus knows this, because God knows this. God knows this, partly because Satan knows this, but mostly God knows everything. God is the little voice inside the head of Jesus, driving him to do what is right, but however, Jesus, like a man, had a free will (though his free will could not make different decisions that god had planned that he would make, this was a free will none the less. A free will like those who do not accept Jesus Chris, our Lord, and God, and Savior, as their Lord, and God, and Savior. So technically they do not have a choice, but then again they do. They are told to not beleive, as to set an example for all those others as a warning... A Holy Warnig... From God... Praise him...)...

His free will was strong, hard, and noble, and god would comment on this free will as mighty as an oak, but trained, like a dog. God, please breathe life into this story once more, and give me motivation.

-

**Revelations Part Five.**

**Jesus Silences The Heathen Tramps, With His Mighty Wand Of Magic, And Pleasure.**

**a.k.a.**

**Mixed Signals, Large Tits, Too Many Cocktails, And God's Mighty Hymn Of Drunken Sadness.**

**-**

Jesus smokes one of his precious cigarettes, as he sits at the bar by himself. He is lonely with no christains around, and he needs a way to escape. Tobacco, and alcohol... God's special drugs. Gift to mankind from the almighty himself, to distract you from the temptation of smoking that satanic pot stuff.

Jesus noticed the woman next to him. He noticed her smile, her hair, that ever so sweet fragrance ementating from her precious being, but most of all he noticed her tits. They were glorius.

"Hey baby. Need a savior?" He blows smoke in her direction, making her cough.

"Get lost, creep" She says, then pauses, as if waiting for a reaction.

Jesus takes off his sunglasses, and stares into her face, glaring daggars into her soul. She realizes how intense the situation is a moment to late, and her head explodes from sheer bewilderment. Screams, and should could be heard throughout the bar, notifying the noticement of the dead person in the room.

"Hey, that girls head exploded!" shouted someone from the crowd.

Jesus was unaffected. He put his glasses bag on and took another drag of his cigarette, hitting the filter, and holding it in, like a man. He downed his cocktail in one sip, and put out his cigarette, looking ever so badass in this dark night club, with his aviater glasses on. He looks up tothe bartender.

"How much do I owe you?" He asks, nonchalontly.

"Twelve seventy five" The bartender replies, also nonchalontly.

Jesus is shocked, amazed, and pissed off.

"For one drink? You fuckin' jew!" He reluctantly gets out the officers wallet, and prys out a twenty he lifted from the prostitute. He hands over the money and awaits his change.

"Is water free?" Jesus inquired, temporarily disregarding his almighty omnicousness.

"Yeah"

"Glass of water. Chop Chop" Jesus exclaimed, with the confidence of a thousand inferior gods times fifteen.

The bartender complies immediately, sensing this mans badassity. Jesus accepts this cup with a smile on his face. He waves his hand over it a couple of times, and the bartender gasps in sheer amazement, as it is now wine! Yay, and praise Jesus!

"I feel like I should charge you for that..." The bartender stammered.

"Get me another!" Jesus said, belching as he downed the large cup in one long sip. You see, Jesus is an alcoholic. This does not matter though, cause he's the shit! I love you, Jesus!

"Uh... No.. I can't let you do that again it doesn't seem.. fair... or.. something?" The bartender stated stupidly to Jesus.

Jesus was so mad he blew the bartenders head up by staring at him, but this time he didn't even give him the respect to take off the glasses. He sighs and walks away from the bar, as more shouts, and screams can be heard.

He sits at a table, with a lovely large breasted coppertop. He lights a cigarette with his thumb, and inhales deeply, before greeting her with his amzingly holy voice.

"Hey there, baby. Come here often?"

"What are you supposed to be, some kind of magician?"

"Better than that, I'm your savior. Do you believe in god?"

"I believe in you"

"That'll do babe.. That'l do"

That night, Jesus took her to a hotel, fucked the shit out of her, and never called her again... She also went to hell for not saying his name during intercourse...


	3. Book III

**Disclaimer: God hath molested me with his knowledge and wisdom once more. Be you worthy enough for this ****ancient**** text to invade your mind, and cloud your ****judgement****, or be you a wretched heathen who only wants ****to**** cheat for the devil, by ****cornholing**** knowledge out of the opposing team?**

**Brought to you by Ronald McDonald's ****Christain****Childrens**** Charities**

**-**

**Revelations Book Three Prologue.**

-

Jesus sighed, and limply tossed the freshly opened pack of cigarettes onto the bed. He exhaled the freshly created ashes from his lungs, a hit mighty enough to give Zeus a collapsed lung any day. He seemed discontent; like something was eating him up inside.

"What is it?" asked Mary the whore.

She couldn't understand. She was nothing but a simple minded heathen. She couldn't understand this kind ofloneliness. This kind of pain. This kind of heartbreak. Life wasn't supposed to be like this, he always thought.He had always imagined a simpler time, one of happiness and substance abuse. He had always imagined things would get better, and when they didn't he was left up shits creek without a paddle with the rest of us.

God had abandoned him, just like the rest of us. He didn't kknow how to feel about this; he wanted to cry, but he was no fag. He wanted to scream, but he was no woman.

"Baby?" she wanted so badly for him to open up to her. He was like this penetrating force that refused to be penetrated. She wanted so badly to penetrate this man, as he had penetrated her thirteen and a half times last night, but it didn't seem to be a possibility.

"Are you still with me?"

Jesus was deep in thought. So deep in thinking that he couldn't find his thoughts. He looked, and looked, and looked, and looked, and looked, and looked, and looked, and looked, and looked, and looked, and looked in vain. There was nothing to be found, because in reality, Jesus wasn't thinking. He was brain dead with discontent.

"Mister Smith?"

That was it. That was the straw that broke the saviors mind.

A sucker punch, followed by a fist to the side of the throat. She tried to yell in protest, but all that came out was a raspy gurgle. A right hook to her eyes so hard the black eye is instantaneous. Oh yeah, Jesus can do that.

She stumbles backwards, into the nightstand, knocking it over.

These objects lay on the floor next to her; a bottle of scotch, a broken lamp, a bible, and a gram of blow. In a daze, she picks up the bible, and holds it up as if it were soime sort of sheild.

"Please!" she managed to screech. This rang of importance and significance. At the same time.

Jesus, blinded by rage, anger, and alcoholism, pulled the Bible from her grasp, and looked at it. He was about to hit her with it, to smash that ugly face into her brain, and eat her entrails when suddenly he stopped. He looked down at this little blue book. He looked at the golden pages, and the picture iun the front of him as a baby, and he cried. He cried like a fag. He cried like a bitch. He cried like a woman.

He cried, and brought the book down on her face repeatedly. He face became a bloody sphincter as he beat his problems away.

"Why me?" He asked god, who refused to answer. "Why do I have to endure so much suffering and unhappiness?"

He never got an answer. What he did do, however, was bring the woman back to life for some rough sex, only to beat her right back into her grave.

-

**Revelations Part Seven**

**Part Six Only Exists In Your Mind. Forget It, So We Can Move On.**

**a.k.a.**

**Where's "Jesus?"**

**a.k.a.**

**Jesus' Bogus Adventure**

-

"Συναθροίστε την ομάδα" Said the very brown terrorist, straightening his turben. "Τους παίρνουμε απόψε"

"Έχετε τις σφαίρες?" The other camel-fucker inquired.

"OH ναι" He replied in his matter-of-factly tone. "Πήρα τις σφαίρες"

This struck fear in MakcJudahd's heart, now knowing his leader was not only fearless; but crazy.

"Πρέπει να σκεφτούμε τα παιδιά" He tried to explain, yet somehow knowing his efforts to warm the man's ice cold heart would be futile.

"ΚΑΤΑΔΙΚΑΣΤΕ ΤΑ ΠΑΙΔΙΑ!" Habdul Dumair screamed in response. "Και σας καταδικάστε επίσης."

MakcJudahd knew he was fucked. There was no escaping this; the prophecy would be fulfilled with, or without him. Sadly for MakcJudahd Abdul Jamahd Bin Dalbin, it would be fulfilled without him. That's when Habdul requested the aide of his trusty AK-47, and blew the miserable dune coon from this planet.

-

Prostitutes get boring. Bars are even worse. Pool got old a long time ago. What was a man of magic calibur supposed to do on a friday for some fun? There was always the job, but who wants to work with two fifties in their wallet?

Jesus decided only the most wretched of places would suffice. The mall, his trek would lead him, for why not? He's Jesus, and he loves you, and he died for your sins, so I think he's entitled to go to the fucking mall every once in a while, don't you? God dman right you do. Asshole.

Anyway, Jesus journeyed onward, to some shithole mall in Texas, or Arkensas, or some po-dunk state of thatnature. As soon as he approached the po-dunk mall of his liking, something very unAmerican happened

KKKAAAAAAAAAAABBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!111

An airplane suddenly crashed into the mall, landing in the foodcourt, and taking out over half the mall. Another plane lands on the other side, taking out the rest, and yet another landed on the rubble, contributing nothing to the actual attack. Just another cool explosion.

Jesus was bewildered in all ways possible. He couldn't understand it. Why in god's holy name would someone want to destroy a place that made one-stop shopping for multiple desires of greed and gluttony possible at incredibly high prices?

"Those god damn terrorists" Jesus said; a true badass as he is. "I'll kill every single one of those mulsumese mother fuckers."

-

Suddenly Jesus dodge rolls behind a parked car, dodging projectiles from all directions. Abdul, the one man army(at the fault of his entire team killing themselves in the Jihad against malls, and America, and god) charged "Jesus" for all he was worth.

"Jesus" grabbed Abdul by the collar, ready to shove the fist of justice up the filthy sand nigger's neck, when he managed to squeak it out.

"ΠΑΡΑΚΑΛΩ!"

"Speak english packy! This is America! Home of the brave!! Understand that?"

"Please, "Jesus"" he said, like I said he would.

"You... you know my name?"

"Of course I do, "Jesus". You're... you're one uf us."

His eyes widened in terror. He gasped as he let Abdul go, and fall to his knees.

"You're trying to tell me I'm... a camel fucker?"

He nodded, eye contact never breaking from the amazing Jesus lasergaze. This was not an easily performed feat; Abdul should get mad props for maintaining it. Mad props, yo on teh reel.

"I'm... a dune coon?"

"Yes"

"I'm... a towelhead?"

"Enough of the god damn elipseses already. You were sent to us from Allah."

"Allah? I don't know that man. What is this nonsense?"

"You don't know him, because you are governed by the tyrant?"

"The tyrant?"

"Your god is not all you know."

"Don't you mean.. wait, what the hell do you mean?"

"You are a dumb fucker "Jesus", but it's okay. It's not your fault, you see. You were brought up to believe a bunch of lies told to you by your so called "father". You see, "Jesus", you are a part of something much greater than what you even understand."

"But I AM a sand nigger, right?"

"Yes."

"Good. In that case, for the rest of the story, the narrarator will properly label us as Middle Eastern."

You're the one who told me to call them camel fuc-

"Nevermind what I said. Do your fucking job."

And on that note, I quit.

-

**Love lifted me.**

**Loooovve****liiiifted****meeeee**

**When nothing else would do;**

**looooooooovvvvvvveeee****liiiiiiiiiiiiifffffftted****meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee**

**This has been a presentation of Ronald McDonald's ****Christain****Childrens ****Charities.**** Eat a cheeseburger, save a retard.**


	4. Book IV

**Disclaimer: I write this with holy fingers. Have you the balls to challenge god?**

**Brought to you by Battered Dreams. Not a baking company; we save lives. From drunk drivers. For real. Drinking in driving only ends in death and sadness. Can you handle the sadness? We didn't think so. **

**We also need money, and appreciate donations.**

**-**

**Revelations****: Book Four**

**Prologue**

-

We had to fire the narrator, so it looks like I'll be taking charge.

Yay and glory, for due to my immaculate spelling and mind-blowing usage of grammar, you will no longer have to suffer through all that silly biased and racially prejudice nonsense.

Yay, and you will no longer have to endure reading through such horrible hate-filled words such as towel head, dune coon, chink, kike, nigger, jew, twatwaffle, sand nigger, camel fucker, WOP, daego, grease ball, goomba, Mick, McBastard, short-dicked mick, jigaboo, jungle bunny, and or packy. No, none of that, because I'm Jesus Christ, and I love you.

I love you so much that I will protect you all from those mean and unnecessary words and phrases. Illusions, even! There are but two colors, you see. Light and dark.

Be you the light as Adam, or black as Eve and the snake? Be you light of soul, or dark of skin? Sin, I meant. As sin.

The point is, that the story is left for me to tell, which means that truth will finally be presented to you. For real. Truth.

Truth.

Like your mom always said you should tell. The truth.

Nothing but the truth. So help me god.

-

**Revelations****: part nine eleven.**

**Takin' nine eleven back (to america (from america))**

**or**

**It happened(9/11)**

**or**

……**nevermind. Don't worry about it.**

-

"Alright, 'Jesus'" he said. Blowing his cigar smoke in my face.

I let it slide, because I'm Jesus, and all-forgiving. You should learn a thing or two from me.

"I'm going to teach you a thing or two about god."

"Just what do you have to tell me about things you don't understand, (expletive deleted so your poor soul can handle reading this godly-ness. I can assure you, I said nothing racial.)?"

"That it is a lie, and that is why you do not understand it."

"You're crossing the line, camel jock-(oops. Uh… don't worry about it?). In fact, you're down right pissin' me off."

I'm sweet.

"Your god has told you nothing but lies! You've been a pawn in his game from day one!"

"Pawn? Nah. I'm the queen. And I'm about to cornhole me a checkmate from across the board."

After delivering this badass line, I reveal my two .50 caliber nickel-plated Desert Eagles, and blow him straight to hell with no return ticket, and no chance for refund.

The entire middle eastern army suddenly surrounds the tent. I know this, because I can sense sin. Feel it.

Running out of the tent at full speed, screaming, I pull the triggers simultaneously and at the same time. Turning brown into red, I blow a hole through each and every member on the front line, I dodge roll through mud, and my beautiful white robes do not even stain, because I am divinity.

My pistols sound like machine guns with the quickness of my fingers, and bullets stop all around me. Blowing minds, literally and physically, I manage to defeat the rest of the entire middle eastern army with a bayonet I broke off of one of their crudely fashioned AK-47s.

Jumping from one brown skinned man to the next with the quickness and glory, I extracted the sin from these men using my bare hands. Dropping the knife, I immediately performed my karate.

A roundhouse to one packy, and a chop to another, I cripple the no longer proud nation of afghanistanian. Or was it packy-stan? What the hell is the difference? Either way, I would like to apologize for the profound use of the word "packy" in this paragraph. It was wrong of me, and I only hope you'll stick around long enough for me to rephrase. I killed me some middle easterns.

Their manpower was no match for my godpower. Jesus was with me, because I am Jesus, so technically I was with me in the closest way possible. There is no higher invincibility than this.

After breaking one's neck, I looked around to see the whole army dead around me. I said something like "fuck yeah" or "I'm kickass" but I don't remember it, so we'll move on.

"Why…?"

What's this? A foe that I didn't ki-… A foe that I spared? Yes, it would seem my forgiveness knows no boundaries.

"Why would you do this to your own kind?"

"I didn't. My kind didn't make nine eleven happen. Yours did, and that is unforgivable."

After this, I point the gun at him, and say something kickass like "sayonara, fool!" and pull the trigger.

Smoke comes out of the barrel in a neat little puff, allowing me to blow it away, and make myself look even more badass. This makes me feel the urge to take it a step further, and light a cigarette. After that, I reload my guns.

-

**Revelations****:** **part nine passed eleven.**

**or**

**Gridlee**

**or**

**adippagridleeatnynpastdlebm.**

**-**

Driving in my pickup truck, I look in the rear view mirror at my badass aviator glasses. I can't help but think about how fucking cool I look in these things.

Taking another sip from the bottle of (soda-pop), I hear a honking sound, until suddenly I'm distracted from myself by a crash!

Looking up, I noticed that not only were these poor fellows not wearing their seatbelts, but they also dun ran into MY FUCKING TRUCK!

Must have been drinking and driving. Now they're dead, and their souls are driving strait to hell. And this road is one way, baby. One way.

Drinking and driving only leads down the long hard road into hell.  
(which is only a one way street. The one that goes INTO hell. That one. There isn't one that goes out of hell. Once you're there, you're there. Get it? Seriously.)

Being completely unscathed, and immaculately beautiful, I later managed to steal a car, and continue my quest to find my opposition on this here earth.

The antime.

And that is where this story cuts off, because I'm tired.

And I need a beer.

A cigarette would be nice, too.

-

**Brought to you by Ronald McDonald, Battered Dreams, And Jesus, in **_**ALL**_** of my glory.**


	5. Book V

**Disclaimer: I don't need one. I'm fucking Jesus. Got a problem? Please, feel free to kiss my balls. OTR, nigga.**

-

**Revelations:**** Book V**

**Prologe**

**-**

So, I walk up in the session with my dick in my hand.

A fat sweet in my mouth. A twenty-four ounce can.

Aint got no time for that packy-stan. He can. She can't.

An urban nightmare this place is. Though it feels safer than your average 7/11 for some strange reason(only known to god). Walking into a cloud of blunts and darkness, I feel out of place. A spec of light in a sea of dark.

Jungle noise. Loud and obnoxious. It refuses to cease. My guess is that these speakers were stolen.

Maybe I should set the scene. Some party. Lots of niggers. Forties and blunts.

Ghetto niggers. These niggaz was hard. Not like the punks you come across in the street.

Coming up on the DJ, I remove my glasses from my face. Looking the son of a bitch right in the eye, his head explodes and the music stops.

The biggest and baddest nigger of the group steps forth.

"You dare step into T-Dawgs house and act a fool? Fool, you trippin. Been trippin since sis and nahn, ya'll 'ear?"

"Listen to me, my (not)brother of a different, thicker skin! I come from the capitol G to defeat the antichrist responsible for the eleventh of nine. Pray, be you as dark as your skins lead one to believe? I think not, my friends of lesser caliber! Yay and praise Jesus, for Jesus is I, and let's smoke this blunt and kill some packys!"

Somehow, this works.

So, me and T-Dawg blew a sweet and he called up a posse. Exactly seven(six) niggers surround me, all stereotypes to the max. All of them sport baggy pants and wife beaters. Shirts tucked into their underwear. True ghetto niggers. They be packing, all wielding gats and chicken legs.

I might be intimidated by their darkness if I wasn't practically infinite light(light(light(light(light(light(light(light(light(light)))))))))

"Bunnies of the jungle! Lend me your ears(or whatever body part your darker kind uses to listen to stuff with)! Help your god on this fateful day, and though you may not get a place in heaven(only people get into heaven) I'm sure we can make a deal with Satan(Clydefox) to where you get lots of… what is it you niggers like? Chicken?"

Cheers. Monkey-like whoops and hollers.

"Alright! Chicken it is! Someone get me another forty. We have to save this blunt for the ride to the.."

And so I organized the unruly bunch of niggers pile up five deep in the 'lac. We lit a sweet, my ebony soldiers began our holy journey to redemption.

-

**Revelations:**** Part seven eleven.**

**or**

**7/11**

**or**

**You ever cut off a sand nigger's head? They don't bleed… not like we do. Or maybe it was just the sand….**

**No, seriously. You cut an arab, and they bleed sand. It's weird. I seent it.**

**-**

So, I walk up in the station with my dick in my hand.

The posse behind me, passing my generosity around.

"You can't smoke that in here!"

Just where I knew he would be.

There he is, behind the counter. Just where I thought he would be.

Al Qaeda.

I pull out my piece bust that shit all up in his grill.

"Where's the bomb, packy? Where are you planning nine eleven at this time, you camel fucking terrorist?!"

"I no terrorist, okay? I no terrorist…."

"What? YOU KNOW TERRORISTS?!"

My Uzi teaches that dune coon the meaning of freedom, justice, GOD, and America all at once, by spraying bloody sand(sin) all over the tobacco products behind him.

Justice is served, all over the place.

"Aww, sheeeiit! The newports!"

All too disgusted to wade through the sandy mess to get their choice menthol cigarettes, the hard ghetto niggers settle for G-Smokes.

After gathering forties and lighting up, dialogue ensues.

"What are we doin' here, boss?"

Boss. He knows who's in charge here

"Don't you see it?"

"See what, nigga?"

"If you erase part of the nine in nine eleven, what do you get?"

"What?"

Sigh…

It's like I'm talking to a group of monkeys.

"Seven eleven, fool!"

"Hey! We at the seven eleven!"

"Exactly! Now, who works at the seven eleven?"

….

Silence. They scratch their heads and look at each other. Finally T-Dawg speaks up.

"The towel head we just busted on?"

"Exactly, my dark companion! Al Qaeda!"

Gasps. The jungle bunnies have finally reached the page I was on two hundred million pages ago. At least.

-

**Revelations: ****part ?! **

**or**

**(interrobang)**

**or**

**Blacker than day.**

-

As we walk through the glass doors, we have to stop, because we both know what's coming.

"This is where we part ways, T-Dawg. Our paths may cross again, but I don't know. You're black."

"Ah 'ear, ah 'ear."

He gives me a dat, and bails out with his posse.

I start making my way to my pimped out Cadillac, when suddenly a hole is forced open through the sky.

"Son! What the fuck are you doing here?! I told you a hundred times how dangerous these ghettos are. Stay out of them."

"Father! I had to venture through the ghetto to destroy Al Qaeda! Those niggers helped me!"

"You stay away from those jigaboos, son! They're nothing but trouble."

"But father! The scripture of Clydefox stated that you claimed that niggers are indeed people."

"Son… that's the stupidest shit I've ever heard."

Lightning strikes me, hard, because I've been bad. Stupid and bad.

Stupid _is_ bad. Daddy don't tolerate.

"Everyone knows that niggers are black! How could people _possibly_ be black?"

"You're right father. I'm sorry. Niggers are black. Not people."

"Good boy."

And after giving me the stank, God departs.

Capital G.

Daddy.

-

**Brought to you by the balls of god. Spewing forth such masterful creation.**


	6. Book VI

****

Disclaimer: Yay, for I am Jesus, the light and the way. Since my father and I are infallible, you cannot dispute god's holy word as he shits it out onto the word processor. I dare you to challenge my manliness. All are feminine in comparison to Jesus. And women are weak. This is no less than fact. Weak and evil. You know, god once told me that the best thing to do, when dealing with a woman, was to stick your penis in them as fast as heavenly father possible and to get the fuck out of there as heavenly father possible. Pussies are like camel spiders. That son of a bitch bites you, and everything goes numb. Now, that may feel cool for a little while, but before you know it, the snatch has consumed your entire face. Life. Your entire life. The spider consumes your face. Doesn't matter. None of this matters. The point is, that I demand more wine.

Brought to by wine. It gives me the strength do deliver justice.

Oh, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!

-

Revelations: book VI

-

Part --

March of the moon crickets.

or

A very balls off(on[off]) krimmus(Christmas[It's my fucking birthday, okay?]).

-

It was a day like any other of its kind. I would say the day started when I opened my eyes, waking from my slumber, but the thing is that I never sleep. Sleep is for weak fags and eval minorities who want to escape from their problems. Sleep is nothing but a bitch move, an attempt to hide from reality. But I am reality. Reality hangs from my nuts like a good little bitch. Kind of like illegal drugs. People only take them to hide from the world, like cowards. Why else would they take drugs? Other than to appease Satan, and engage in the evals of sodomy, of course.

Anyway, I demanded the sun to come up like I do every day, and it did. Why? Because I'm fucking Jesus. That's why.

I just thought about how that sounds. I would like to make it clear that I'm not having sex with myself. Well, okay. My hand. That counts? Does that count? Fuck, man. I don't know. Either way, I'm Jesus and you love me. And so does the sun. That's why it comes up when I tell it to. Coincidentally, that's why it goes down, too. Because it loves me. And I'm Jesus.

*takes a sip of wine*

God, I love me. I mean, what's not to love? I'm so fucking cool.

*takes another sip of wine*

I'm so cool, I can even cheat out description, and put all my actions in between asterisks. That's how cool I am. My concentrated kickassery cannot be measured, just like my cock. God damn, I'm cool.

*finishes off the bottle and throws it at someone deemed homosexual by the standards of a higher power (me)*

Wait! Today is the twenty fifth?! This would seem significant if I weren't so drunk. Hold on a second.

*pukes*

Okay, we're good.

Wait! It's the twenty-fifth of December, innit?! God, if only I could remember the significance of that. Some whore mentioned it last night during intercourse. And by intercourse, I mean that I was beating her to death. Something about "PLEASE DON'T KILL ME TOMORROW IS CHRISTMAS!"

Oh yeah! Tomorrow's Christmas. Now, if only I could remember why I gave a shit...

Hmm...

Oh yeah! I'm such a fool! Why didn't I think of it sooner?! Christmas means presents! FUCK YEAH!

*whips out c-phone and gives g-dizzle a rizzle*

"DID SOMEBAWDY CALL MAH NAME?!"

"GOD! Wassup, nigga?!"

"Aw, shit! Who dis?!"

"Nigga, you trippin'! You know J-Dawg when yall 'ear him"

"Jesus! Bet! Wassup nigga?!"

"Not much, nigga. Been chillin' down here on Earf. Fo sho."

"You keepin' it real?"

"I'm keepin' it real. Fo sho. Onna real, fo sho."

"My nigga!"

"Yo pop! What yall be gettin' me fo my birfday?"

"Aw, shit. It's yo birfday?!"

"Yall know it. Yall be trippin' or somethin', G?"

"Wut?"

"Uh. Don't worry about it."

"Oh. Okay. Anyway, yeah. We're throwing you a birthday party up here in the house. For sure."

"On the real?"

"Yes. On the real. Bet."

"Oh. Well, don't that just beat all? What time does the party start?"

"It starts at nine eleven sharp. Be there or be square!"

"Hahaha! Okay, dad. I'll be there."

"You had better be. You stay black now, you hear?"

"Word. Later, dad."

"Goodbye!"

*hangs up the phone and pulls another bottle of wine from robes. uncorks it and starts chugging.*

Wine is awesome. There should be more of it in the world. And I should drink it all. Horde it to myself. Fuck these ungrateful swine. Sometimes I think; wait! I was actually crucified for these pack of 'tards? I think that, and I get angry. I get angry and I have to have a little drink.

*finishes off the second bottle of wine and tosses the bottle somewhere back there*

I should probably get ready for the party, or something. Now, I'll need entertainment at the party. What's a good, honorable, wholesome Christian entertainer I could kil-.... invite to heaven for my party? 50 Cent? No. That's right. Black people don't go to heaven. Chuck Norris is a Christian. He would be fucking cool to have at my birthday party. James Hetfield is Christian. Think we could get Metallica to play Jesusfest 2008? Of course we could. I'm Jesus. Let's see, who else? Wait, isn't that one moron from Napoleon Dynamite a Christian? I really enjoy how that guy ISN'T FUNNY. Nope. NOT FUNNY AT ALL. JUST REALLY LAME. But it still makes me laugh, even though NAPOLEON DYNAMITE IS NOT FUCKING FUNNY. NOT FUNNY, but people laugh anyway. Kind of like the blue collar gang. Say, I could get them, too!

This is going to be the best birthday party ever.

-

****

Revelations part whatever. I don't fucking care anymore.

The epic search for the royal entertainment for the Jesus Birthday Bash of 2008

****

or

Getting ready for shit to go down at nine eleven.

-

*does so*

-

****

Revelations part victory

Rejoice!

or

Balls on!

-

*looks down at list*

Lessee. Looks like I've gotten all the entertainment for the party covered. It's that cheating scene change for the win. God damn, I'm the shit. I'm so fucking sexy, man. I'd fuck me. I'd fuck me hard, man. I'd slap me in the face with my dick. And I'd like it. I'm such a filthy, filthy slut.

Anyway, where was I?

Oh yeah. Time to go to heaven. Super birthday bash time. Whatever. It isn't nothing but a thing.

Yo.

-

****

Revelations part Christmas Special

The epic conclusion to the Christmas Special.

or

The epic conclusion to the Christmas Special

or

The EPIC conclusion to the Christmas Special.

or

THE EPIC CONCLUSION TO THE CHRISTMAS SPECIAL

or

teh epics cuntclooshunz 2 teh crimmus speshul

-

"It's like gosh! Whatever! Dang! Just flippin' great!"

*sips wine*

Everyone laughs at the moron on stage, because expressing anger with clean language is cute. Way to go, Napoleon Dynamite. You're a fucking genius. So LAME and NOT FUNNY, yet you still manage to make us all laugh. Hahahaha! I love you.

"YOU FUCKING SUCK!" Someone shouts from somewhere in the crowd.

*looks over to notice that it's that moron cornwallace. approach him and demand his attention by throwing a half empty bottle of wine at him*

"Ow! What the fuck!?"

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Oh, me? I'm here to drink. And I think it's someone's birthday, or whatever."

"I'll tell you what you're doing, jackass. You're crashing my party, and I demand JUSTICE!"

"Jesus! Is that you?! Damn, it's been a while! How are things?"

"It's been a while? More like never. What the fuck are you doing here?"

"Oh, that? I was shot in the face while defending truth. With a grenade. Nine to eleven times."

"That's a lie and you know it. That isn't even what I was asking."

"Right. I was hit by a bus."

"Try again."

"Okay, I drank myself to death. What of it?"

"That isn't what I meant, you moron."

"Is that Hitler over there?"

"Yes it is. Don't interrupt me."

"What the fuck is he doing in heaven?"

"He was a noble Christian. What the fuck are _you_ doing in heaven?"

"Right! I wrote the first three chapters of Revelations, so I managed to talk my way in. I'm starting to regret it, though, I mean it's really lame up here. All you have is wine, and wine sucks. Only lame people up here. And who did you hire to arrange for entertainment, a fucking mongoloid? I mean, when the highlight of the show is Metallica, you know something is deathly wrong. Their best song was a cover, for god's sake! God, I could never bring myself to giving those lame assholes money. And that's the only thing here that isn't completely worthless! I mean, the comedy element you hired is a pack of unfunny retards, I don't know what the fuck you were thinking, ma-"

A hole opens up in the floor, and cornwallace falls straight to hell.

Good riddance, asshole.

*uncorks another bottle of wine and turns it upside down*

Napoleon steps down and Jeff Foxworthy replaces him. He's sporting tight jeans and boots, and looking damn good.

"You might be a redneck if your sister takes her fake tooth out to suck your didly."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

"You might be a redneck if you were breast fed by your father!"

"HAHAHAhAHAHAHAHAH!!!!!"

"You might be a redneck if your daddy calls you daddy when you're balls deep in that there cornhole."

"THAT'S SO TRUE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"You might be a redneck if you have cable wire tied to your truck nuts sos you can drag a fag on the go!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!"

"You are a redneck if you talk with this fake southern drawl. That accent is always fake. Seriously, it isn't real. No exceptions."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"You might be a redneck if you aren't funny."

"HAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

"Thank you, thank you. I'll be doing the same act for the next thirty years."

He steps down and makes his way through the crowd, to be replaced by the legend! That fat retard. The fat one. I forget his name.

He steps up onto the stage and he farts.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"Cornhole it!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

"But seriously, folks. You guys ready to hear some funnies?!"

He farts again.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

He farts once more.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

"Cornhole it!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!"

"My sister is covered in moles. So, we fucked her in the ass and called her HOLY MOLY! CORNHOLE IT!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!"

The fat dumbass bows, and goes to step off the stage.

"Encore! ENCORE!"

"Well, alright."

"WOO!"

He farts again and steps off the stage.

Applause and praise.

Suddenly, Capital G, my main man and father (THE GEE OH DOUBLE DEE!) hits the scene.

"WHAT'S UP, NIGGAZ?!"

Everyone whoops and hollers upon his entrance.

"DAD!"

n tehn 4 wutevr rezun da editer kwit so i wuz on me oan

tehn liek god told me he luvd me n he got me all kynds of cul siht 4 mi birdday bcuz he luvs me n sudnly ELTON JONN wuz playing at my consert! I wuz like WTF! HE GAY! WUT HE DOIN HEER?! N GOD WUZ LIEK 'WUT?! GAY?!' N I WUZ LIEK "DONT U WACH TEH ERTH? HE GAY!" N GOD WUZ LIEK "NAW NIGGA U NO I DONT WACH THE ERTH! FUCK DEM!" N I AGREED N WE DRUG HIM BEHIND R TRUCK BCUZ HE IS A FAG AND U DRAG A FAG N GOD TELZ ME HE LUVS ME N I LUX HIM 2 N WE GIT OWT AND HITLERS ALL LIEK 'WE SHOOD KILL SUM JOOISS PEEPLEZ' N I TEL HIM 'UR A GUD CHRISTAIN HITLER' N HE SES 'I LUV U JEZUZ' N I SAE 'I LUV U 2. GOD BLESS US. EVRY 1.' N GOD SES 'OK'

-

****

fuk you and fuck kristmas. brot 2 u by wine, mcdonlds, and jesus(me).

and stfu stop flamming me im sikk of bein flammed im so sikk of al u asholez givin me siht abowt grammer n stuf fuk u all plz r&r no flamz im jesus if u flam ill tell my dad on u n ull be flamming in hell motherfuker.

*drinks moar wine*


	7. Book VII VII VII

**Disclaimer: Fuck you, I'm a dragon.**

**Brought to you by the collection plate. Give me your money. Do it. I'm Jesus. I can save you. Hard.**

**-**

**REVELATIONS  
BOOK VII VII VII**

**-**  
**  
Part 7**

**Black On Red, White, And Blue Crime**

-

It's been just over two years since beginning my search for the antichrist. Initially, I thought it was Cheney, pulling the strings for Bush. But no, they disappeared into the sea of shit that is this country.  
So, where to look next? Perhaps I've been drinking too much wine. No, no, that's impossible. Too little wine. Yes. That's it. I'm sure of it.

The end is nigh. Getting closer and closer to the big year. 2112. Only three years until shit goes down.

Either way, I was forced to look into the mirror, to show myself the light and way, so I could solve this mystery. The light pointed it's way through me to the darkest of places in the entire world.

Of course! Why didn't I see it?! Have I bleen bind?!

*takes another sip of wine*

Of course the blackest of evils would try to infiltrate the throne to my precious America! It's times like this when I miss Bush. He was a good man, and led astray by the evils of the gluttonous swine that backed his rear.

What I'm trying to say is that a jigaboo has successfully stolen the porch out from under us. And we can't even tell him to get off it. What the fuck? What, is that son of a bitch going to try and steal my dually next?! Not on my porch! We've got to stop him!

No. I've got to stop him. I keep forgetting that all the beings on the earth are fucking useless for anything other than lavish praise, and god's up there jerking off to all of it, or something. Whatever. Maybe he's drinking. He doesn't care. He never did. Which would be fine by me if I didn't have to give a shit. That's pretty lame. It's like he only made me to do his bidding, or whatever. Bummer. I just kinda want to party. How come he gets to party? He thinks just because he's my father he can make me take out the trash while he sits in the house jerking off to cable television? Well, fuck that, I said. But I have to do it anyway, or I'll get grounded.

Where was I?

Barack Obama!

Not only is this man a nigger, but he's a terrorist. Isn't that like some kind of double negative or something? Like a gay nigger, only nine eleven times worse. I'm pretty sure those figures are accurate.

Doesn't matter.

Barack Hussein Obama. The antichrist.

As if black people weren't already bad enough. Like, just when you thought they couldn't get any worse, right? I mean, they're even worse than the fucking Jews.

Wait, what was I talking about?

I need more wine. Port for the win.

-

**Part 7**

**The Return To The Ghetto**

**or**

**Flashblacks**

**or**

**A Blackst From The Past**

**-  
**

After obtaining another jug of port, I decided the best thing to do was to make my way back to the ghetto. My dad told me never to go there again, but that could be one of his many tests. Dickhead likes to play jokes. When I was a kid, he would walk over to me, stick his ass in my face, and ask me if there was any gum stuck to it. He would then fart on me. If I didn't want to look, he would grab my head and hold it there. My dad was always an asshole. I've learned not to worry about it.

So, I'm going to the ghetto again. Not something I'm exactly excited about, but there you go. Sometimes to get across the yard you have to step in shit. Not really much you can do about that.

So, with a hard case of the jigablues, I make my way down to the poor part of town. Fine establishments soon replaced with gun and liquor stores. And KFC. Lots of that.  
I can smell them from here. I could smell them from a mile away. The smell makes me sick.

I'm already halfway through my bottle of port. It's a good thing that there are so many liquor stores around. Those will come in handy later. If I can stomach this place for that long.

I make my way towards the project on the corner. Feel the bile rising to the back of my throat. I notice an jigaboo smoking crack out of a glass pipe on the corner out front. One of his minions. I bet if I torture this poor fucker, instead of killing him like I normally would, I can probably extract some information from the worthless sack of shit. Then I'll put the worthless slime out of his misery.

For I am Jesus.  
The bringer of justice.

I bring justice hard. All over the face of America. And you know what? The slut is begging for more.

The heathen senses justice.  
He looks up at me from his crack pipe.

"Oh shit! The fuzz!" he shouts, jumping up and hurling the crack pipe into a bush. He darts down the sidwealk with his catlike reflexes. Too bad he isn't aware that I'm a NASCAR fan.  
Blindly springing forward with the force of a thousand horses and the rage of a thousand gods. My body crashes into his, liquefying the heathen, his bloody skeleton splashing red on the bright pavement below. Organs splattering shit all over his disgusting remains.

"Alright, mooly," I say, kneeling before him. "I have some questions that you had better have some fucking answers to.

He doesn't respond.

"God damn it."

Wave my hand over the mess before me, and it turns back into the ugly thing it was before.

"Wut da fuck?!" the thing shouts.

Draw my gun and point it at him, menacingly.

"I have questions. You have answers. Speak only in slave talk. Go."

"Yessuh, massah!"

"Where is your leader?"

"He in deya, massah!" he says, pointing to the house down the street. "Please don't whip dese tired ol' bones!"

I fire three rounds into his face, and holster the pistol.

It's time to end this.

-

**Part 7**

**Den Falla Om Negerprins**

**or**

**The Fall of the Black Prince.**

-

It's only as hard as it has to be. And it has to be hard enough to look badass.

Foot meets the flimsy wooden door, and sends it flying in splinters into the stinky abyss.

There he is, in his dirty pleather recliner, watching rap music videos and smoking that horrible marijuana stuff.

"Wut da fuck?!"

"That's just what your homie said!"

Make my way into the center of the room. He stands up and draws a nickel plated desert eagle from his boxers. Possibly the most badass gat I've ever seen a ghetto nigger wield.

"Break yoself, foo!"

He fires the gun wildly in my direction, but little does he know, I'm quicker than greased lightening. With the quickness of a thousand Ford Escorts, I dodge the bullets and dash to his right side, elbow connecting with his face. Karate chop the arm wielding the gat and it disconnects at the forearm. Blood sprays us both as his high pitched scream echoes off the walls.

"So, we finally meet at last.... Barack Obama."

"Mayne, wut da fuck is a barackuh-obama?!"

"Don't play dumb with me, monkey! I'm here to stop your reign of terrorism!"

"You wanna buy some weed?"

"Ha! I knew it all along! You use pot to fund your terror! You make me sick! Well, not anymore, Obamien."

"Wut? Nigga, you trippin'!"

He stands up and draws a shank from his underpants with his remaining arm, blood still spraying uncontrollably.

"Come get a taste!"

He lunges at me.  
Sidestep.  
A right hook he blocks with his forearm.  
Retake.  
Blade lands my chin, drags it's way up my face and over my eye, killing my depth perception harder than Gattsu kills a demon. But like Gattsu, I don't need my right fucking eye to kill.

Jump up, through the roof and fly all the way up to the moon.

Stupid fuck.

Flex.  
Grunt.

Foolish mortals, always doubting.

Suddenly, my hair turns yellow and stands on end. Dumb fuck didn't know he was fucking around with a Super Saiyajin.

"KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

Strike a funny pose.

"MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY"

Grunt.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

Flex.

"MMMMMMMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY"

Muscles growing on top of muscles, veins bulging and visible.

"HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA A AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

My body emits a massive beam that shoots back town to the earth, causing it to implode into a mass of flames.  
Oops. I think I over did it.....

Uh. Anyway, that fuck, the Antichrist is dead!  
VICTORY!  
I SAVED MANKIND! AGAIN!

Fuck yeah!

-  
**  
REVELATIONS: THE END**


End file.
